


Cache

by bigfan2217



Category: NCIS
Genre: Confessions, Episode Tag, Episode: s06e08 Cloak, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigfan2217/pseuds/bigfan2217
Summary: Elevator arguments lead to midnight confessions.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Cache

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to twist it around to make it canon compliant but then I decided that if the NCIS writers don't give a crap about their timeline then I don't have to either.

When they were finally set free, Ziva went home and reveled in a hot shower and _several_ glasses of wine. She curled up on the sofa, trying to focus her attention of a book she had been reading, but her mind kept wandering.

_I'm tired of pretending._

She tried to tell herself that it was nothing, that she was exhausted from recent events. But she kept replaying the scene in her head. The guards rushing towards them, pointing their rifles at them, Tony being knocked out by one of them.

She tried to ignore the panic that crept up her throat, even now, but it was useless to try.

And useless to pretend that she would have had the same reaction if anyone was by her side.

To pretend that she ever thought straight when he was around.

She reached for her wine glass, but was disappointed to see that it was empty. Of course, she had far to much sense to refill it, given that she had work the next morning. Instead, she pushed herself to her feet, padding to the kitchen to rinse the glass out.

The fluorescent green numbers on the oven blinked at her.

_12:38 AM_

She groaned, leaning against the counter and dropping her head.

It would be useless to try and sleep, given the wild torrent in her head, but at the same time there was nothing productive to be done at this hour. It was far too cold to go for a run and Gibbs would give her a head-slap if he found out she went back into the office in the middle of the night.

There was a loud knock on the door, making her jolt. She glanced at the time again.

_12:39 AM_

Instinctively, she stalked silently towards the door, peering through the hole, but it wasn't a stranger on her doorstep. She threw it open.

"What are you doing here?"

But Tony pushed past her, shoving his hands into his pockets and perching on the back of her sofa, staring at her.

Ziva closed the door behind him and turned, trying to read the expression on his face.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice laced with annoyance.

But still, he rolled his head to the side, as if trying to evaluate her.

"Tony!" she snapped.

"What did you mean by it?"

"Excuse me?"

He fidgeted slightly, as if fighting his own better judgement. "In the elevator, I said that I was sick of pretending, and you said you were too. What did you mean?"

"Tony, I did not mean anything, I-"

"Bullshit," he rose again, advancing on her. "You're Ziva, you always think before you speak. So what are you pretending about?"

She blinked at him, feeling a blush rising to her cheeks as she realized that he had been thinking about it too.

"I do not enjoy the secrecy and games."

He snorted, "yeah but you're used to it. Mossad isn't exactly know for being candid."

Ziva glared at him. She really wasn't in the mood for his antics tonight.

So she turned away from him, taking one step towards the kitchen before he reached out and grabbed her arm.

"What were you talking about?" Tony asked again, his voice low.

Fire was spreading up her arm from the contact.

_It was different with him._

"Us."

He let go of her arm, raising an eyebrow. "Us? Like, the team?"

"No, not the team, _us._ You and me."

Tony stared at her, so Ziva plunged recklessly ahead.

"You cannot say that there is nothing _more_ between us."

"More than what exactly?"

"More than just friendship."

In an instant, Tony was all around her, pressing his lips to hers. It only took a moment for her to remember _exactly_ how good of a kisser he was.

His hands were on her back, one pressing their chests together, the other sliding dangerously along the hem of her t-shirt. Ziva lost herself in him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him.

But the she forced herself to pull away.

"Tony..."

"What?"

"You were right, I did leave someone in Israel."

His eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"His name is Michael. We've been friends since we were children."

Now Tony stepped away from her, running one hand over his face. He swayed slightly on his feet.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

He bit his lip. "I don't know... why him?"

"I was lonely." Ziva wrapped her arms around herself. "I missed you all so much, and many of my Mossad colleagues had become distrustful of me, as I had been working in America for so long. He reminded me of when my life was simpler."

"And you're still together?"

"Yes."

Tony rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

She felt a flare of anger at his attitude. "What exactly do you want, Tony? Do you want me to break up with him? Is that it? Throw him aside so I can run into your arms?"

"At the moment, I'd quite like to shoot him."

"That is not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

Ziva jabbed a finger into his chest. "You have no right to judge me, Tony. You cannot expect me to put my life on hold-" but she cut herself off, knowing full well that she was being far too open with him. She was brazenly blasting path every line they had drawn between them.

"To put your life on hold waiting for me?" he guessed, watching her closely.

"Our relationship is not serious. Besides we would not work as a couple," she told him, gesturing wildly between them.

Ziva froze, startling herself with this talk of being _together_ , but there was an odd glaze in Tony's eyes.

"You think we wouldn't?"

"We should not."

"Why?"

"Rule number 12, for a start," she sighed, "we both love our jobs far too much to risk being transferred from Gibbs' team. And even if we were allowed to date _and_ work together, what would happen if it did not end well? Would one of us have to change teams to get away? Not to mention the minor fact that I am not a permanent resident of this country! At any time I could be recalled by my father, which would surely be the end of anything we might have."

He took a dangerous step closer, invading her personal space.

"It sounds like you've thought about this."

This made her falter. He was right, of course.

“Haven’t you?” she challenged.

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I think about it a lot.”

Ziva bit her lip, trying to formulate some response to this, when Tony turned his head and began to press soft kisses into her jaw.

She was mesmerized by him, feeling the friction of his stubble against her skin. Without meaning to, she tilted her head away, giving him more room to work.

His hands had found their way to her waist, where they snuck into the waistband of her sweatpants and pulled her closer. She wrapped her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, clutching unashamedly.

But he pulled away.

"Do you want me to stop?"

She paused for just a moment, trying to remind herself of her previous points, but her skin was tingling, distracting her. And she could feel his heavy breathing on her face, telling her exactly how he felt about the situation.

"No."

He raised an eyebrow, asking, "you sure?"

And so she grabbed the back of his neck and tugged him into her, kissing him firmly, letting her tongue tease him, and he joined in with equal lust.

Really there was no need for alcohol in her life, not when he was intoxicating her like this.

She pushed on his chest lightly, getting him to step backwards, wanting to get him against the wall where she could have some purchase against him. But at the last moment he grabbed her waist and lifted, spinning so that she landed on her desk.

He grinned wickedly at her, before attacking her neck again.

Moaning, Ziva wrapped her legs around his waist, happy for the opportunity to grind against him. She reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it off to expose her chest to him. He chuckled at his, redirecting his attention downwards to her breasts.

In return, she reached a hand between them, stroking his cock through his jeans. He was already half hard for her, flooding her memory of their time _under cover_ together.

He returned his attention to her lips, giving her one last searing kiss before reaching behind him and detaching her legs from him.

Before she knew what was happening, Tony strolled to the door and pulled it open.

"Good luck with your _boyfriend_ ," he called out, giving her a withering look before slamming the door behind him.

Snapping herself out of her daze, the sprinted to the door, grabbing her coat from beside it to cover herself.

She dashed into the hallway, looking for Tony, but he had disappeared. So she turned on her heel and ran back inside, throwing open one of the living room windows and leaning out.

But she was just in time to see his car pulling away.


End file.
